Muzzling the Beast: Taming the Beast, Book 4 (11 page)

Did she think he was going to shoot them? Would a bullet even work if it wasn’t made of silver? Wait, those were for werewolves. These people were—hell, he hadn’t a clue what they might be.

On rubbery legs, he followed Becca, only to stop at an open door. Gone was the nice furniture he’d seen only yesterday. In its place was a padded table with extensions for the arms. Leather straps hung from them, with more at the end of the table for an individual’s feet. The equipment reminded Gabe of what prisons used when they executed the condemned. Given the long claw marks on the walls, whoever had been in here hadn’t liked the accommodations.

Drenched in sweat, he shivered at a sudden blast of air-conditioning falling on him.

“Do you like Constance?” Becca suddenly said.

He looked at her dumbly, not understanding the question at first. Like her? Hell, he’d never met any woman he enjoyed more or felt as comfortable with, as though he’d known her all of his days. If she hadn’t dumped her voodoo priestess shit on him, he would have continued to whiz right past like straight into love.

“You don’t anymore?” Becca asked.

“Is she here?”

“She’s taking a few days off. Please answer me. You don’t like her any—”

“I do.” He cleared his throat. It sounded worse than Zoe’s. “But she said…and this…him…” Gabe gestured to the reception area where he’d last seen the skeleton and Stefin. “Them…”

“Would you like an explanation?”

“Do you have one that makes sense?”

“Not in your world.”

Jesusmotherfuckingchrist.
Not those damn words again. He frowned. “Don’t play me.”

She made a face. “I’m not. I’m trying to tell you what I assume Constance already has. However, I’m sure she didn’t divulge everything, in order to protect the rest of us. That’s the kind of person she is.”

“We all are,” Zoe said from the end of the hall.

Stefin, Anatol, Taro, Daemon, Heather, and MJ flanked her, arms crossed over their chests, expressions dead serious. Except for Heather, who seemed ready to burst into tears.

“Don’t you dare try to hurt Constance or us,” Zoe said. “I promise, you will regret it.”

He had no doubt.

“Let me talk to him first,” Becca said.

First? He turned to her. “If it doesn’t go well because I don’t believe what you say, what then?”

“You don’t want to find out,” MJ said and gave him a sultry smile.

He kept his attention on her and the rest of the group as he backed into Becca’s office. When she closed the door, Gabe flinched at the noise.

“Easy.” She gestured to her sofa. “Have a seat.”

He remained standing, actually sagging against the door and breathing hard. “Am I having a hallucination? If I am, please call nine-one-one for help.”

Becca smiled briefly. “No hallucination. You’re mortal. We’re supernatural. Now you know.”

“Know fucking what?” he hollered and jerked away from the door at the loud banging on it.

“Is he threatening you?” Zoe called out.

“I’m fine,” Becca said. “Please, everyone, go back to work.”

Muted sobs filled the silence.

Becca sighed. “Heather, everything’s all right.” She turned to him. “You better keep your voice down, unless you want Stefin, Taro, and Anatol to ram through the door—or worse, use their powers to get in here. Trust me, they don’t play around, and no bullet is going to stop them. They’re not alive any longer. They. Are. Demons.”

Gabe slumped against the door. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not. However, you have nothing to be afraid of if you don’t threaten us.”

“Threaten you? If they’re d-d-d—” Fuck, he couldn’t even say it. “If they’re not human—”

“Mortal,” she said. “They’re as human as you, probably more so. They’ve been through a lot of shit, and all of them are nice people.”

Uh-huh. “The kind who possess the rest of us, like little girls. Ever see
The Exorcist
and its many sequels?”

“This isn’t a Hollywood movie. It’s real life.”

Gabe laughed, a little hysterically he thought. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

She didn’t crack a smile. “Our kind have always been around, and I’m not talking Salem witch trials, the Spanish Inquisition, or any of the other crap peppering history—totally bogus. The only ones who died during those scourges were mortal, because others, like you, simply hadn’t noticed the real supernaturals right next door. All of you are too into yourselves. Selfish. Egotistical. Judgmental. Bigoted. Narrow mind—”

“I get it, all right.” He gestured wildly. “None of this makes sense. What is this place, a way station for otherworldly creatures?”

“The correct terms are demon, reaper, werewolf—were for short—vampire or vamp, shifter, warlock, good fairies like Heather, who can heal, genies like MJ, who grant wishes, and satyrs like Daemon, who are hungry all the time.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Gabe pointed his finger at her accusingly. “I know what a satyr looks like. I saw
Legend
when I was a kid. Daemon doesn’t have hooves, horns, or a tail.”

“He came to our service to get rid of his so he could look totally human and try to behave like one. The same as the vamps, weres, and others who want to suppress their beasts. They’re tired of being targeted by your kind. Besides, they’d like to go out with mortal babes for a change.”

Yeah, sure.
“Like you?”

She dismissed his question with a flick of her hand. “I’m half witch, half mortal.”

In her world, it probably made sense. Gabe noticed the photos on her cabinet. He inclined his head to it. “Your guy?”

“Yeah. And before you ask, he’s a god, a direct descendant of Cupid.”

Surprise, surprise.

“We’re not committing any crimes here,” she said. “We’re helping people like us to realize their full potential in a mortal world. No one asks to be a were, vamp, demon, or reaper any more than you asked to be born looking as you do. Tell me, Detective, what was it like growing up caught between two cultures, or worlds, so to speak? It wasn’t easy, was it? Bet you had to fight a lot because of your blue eyes. Your lighter complexion probably gave you no end of problems, didn’t it?”

His childhood and adolescence hadn’t been a trip to Disneyland, that was for sure. At times he’d felt scorned by the blacks and the whites, neither group accepting him because he was different from them.

Suddenly, all of his anger and worry drained away, leaving him tired and confused. “There’s no other explanation for this except for it being real? Constance is truly a voodoo priestess, just as she told me?”

“She’s a wonderful woman. You’re lucky to have known her.”

Again, a woman using the past tense with him. “Yeah, I am fortunate to know her. She said she could remove memories by touching someone’s head. True?”

“She did it to you several times to protect us…at least until her mom warned about turning your brain to mush. Mortals can’t take as much of her power as a supernatural can. We all pitched in and changed this place to make it acceptable for your visit because Constance was afraid to remove even one more memory and take a chance on hurting you. She put herself and us at risk to avoid it.”

Gabe was stunned. “She did that for me?”

“Why the surprise? The only reason she didn’t tell you the truth right away was because she didn’t want to lose you. I’ve never seen her as happy with another man. I’d say she’s falling in love with you, if she isn’t there already.” Becca crossed the room to him. “How do you feel about her?”

Gabe had never wanted a woman more, but there was this. How was he supposed to reconcile it with everything he’d ever believed in? “I don’t know.”

“Sure you do. Just say it.”

“All right. I’m conflicted.”

Becca frowned, her expression angry and disappointed. “You’re not going to hurt her by revealing who she is, are you?”

“Hell no. I’d cut off my balls first. I’d cut off any guy’s nuts who tried to harm her.”

She nodded. “Then get on with your life and let Constance continue with hers, please. I love her for who she is, even if you can’t. She deserves a man who won’t care about any of this, because he wants her precisely as she is and isn’t conflicted about any of it.”

After Becca’s speech, there was no talking with her or the rest of them. The guys surrounded Gabe and escorted him to the landing. Zoe promptly slammed the door, locking it for good measure.

As steamy as it was, he continued to shiver, not knowing what to do. How was he supposed to date a woman like Constance, possibly fall more than he already had, and build a future with her? What would their life together be like?

While he fought ordinary crime, she’d be here helping creepy critters suppress their beasts so they could date mortals…just like Quentin had with his young woman. Given his bloodless complexion and icy hands, he had to be a vamp. Gabe wondered if his girlfriend knew about it. Could be she was so into
Twilight
and its pasty hero, she found Quentin super-hot rather than freaking weird.

Gabe dragged himself down the steps, not understanding when the world had changed, making him the bigot.

He wasn’t asking for much here, simply to have Constance be like everyone else with the usual problems. Buried in credit card debt, bitchy from PMS, into
The Real Housewives of Atlanta
no matter how dumb it was.
Why did she have to be involved in something as fucking bizarre as this, something almost impossible to accept?

This morning, Gabe had thought her strange behavior was the end of the world. Now it looked like a damn gift. At least it would have been solvable with intense therapy and meds. This wasn’t fixable at all. It was real, not the plot of a Hollywood movie as Becca had stated. It was also forever.

And who she was.

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the others brushing past, some of them giving him a frown or the finger because he was in their way. Gabe simply couldn’t move and didn’t know where to go.

There wasn’t a soul he could talk to about this, ever. One wrong word from him would risk Constance and the others’ safety.

He didn’t want to imagine the fallout if the general public finally had proof witches, weres, vamps, and other creatures existed. If the various religions didn’t burn them at the stake to whip up their congregations and haul in more donations, then the FBI, CIA, or some other governmental entity would confine and study them as if they were lab rats. There’d probably be a constitutional amendment saying it was all right to harness a demon or vamp’s powers, without compensation of course. After all, America had a right to confiscate assets when her protection was at stake. There were so many enemies out there, especially the ones with oil or other resources in their backyards.

The popular thinking would be to deny the supernaturals a right to anything. Politicians would argue they weren’t real citizens, even if they paid taxes, and weren’t allowed to have the same freedom and happiness everyone else had.

Savvy entrepreneurs might build zoos to house them and charge the public exorbitant admission fees for daily viewings. No one would consider it a problem since the creatures weren’t really people. They were commodities, perfect for exploitation, or convenient scapegoats used to explain away the next war, Wall Street crash, or tanking economy.

He never should have pursued this. Thinking back, Gabe realized what a chance Constance had taken by even speaking with him, much less having done as much as they had. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t have fun, remove his memories, and move on.

But she couldn’t work her magic on him again without hurting his brain, and she’d already risked so much to avoid it. Becca and the others had too, letting him leave without pulverizing or vaporizing him. Gabe had no doubt Zoe would have loved to do both, but here he was, safe on the sidewalk.

Becca had trusted him not to hurt them, asking only one thing—for him not to harm Constance in return.

How could he ever? She was a miracle he hadn’t known existed, and she deserved the very best—a man who accepted her as she was, who celebrated her uniqueness rather than wanting her to change.

She shouldn’t ever for any man, especially him.

He flinched at the shrill ring of his smartphone and then sighed at the display. Not Constance calling. Never Constance. She had a right to be happy and to continue with her life as Becca had said he should do with his.

“Hey,” he said to Nathan. “I was just heading back.”

“Make it fast. Got a new case.”

Great. More work, just what he didn’t want to do. As Nathan shared the particulars, Gabe tried to focus, but his thoughts kept drifting to what he’d had with Constance, and what he couldn’t—and shouldn’t—want now.

Chapter Eleven

“More tea?” Iona Queen asked.

Constance would have killed for a slug of bourbon chased with a fifth of vodka. Knowing her mom wouldn’t approve of binge drinking in the house, she sighed. “I’m good.”

“You’re wasting away to nothing. You haven’t eaten in days.”

No appetite or energy. It was an effort for Constance to lie sprawled on her mom’s sofa. Chewing and swallowing was out of the question. With her arm cradling her head, she stared at yet another game show on TV. Six trillion cable channels and all they offered was this crap: sports, foreign language stations, and reality junk.

If only she could sleep. As tired as Constance was, she couldn’t rest, going through each day like a real zombie, not those fake ones on
The Walking Dead,
then twitching and tensing at night, too many memories flooding her of times past, never to return.

She’d considered asking her mom to remove Gabe from her brain but couldn’t bring herself to do so. Despite how they’d ended, she didn’t want to forget the magic between them. It had been more real and deep than she’d experienced with any man. Those kinds of feelings couldn’t possibly come along very often, because they sure as hell hadn’t for her. To lose them after having waited so many lonely years was worse than never having known them at all.

If only she and Gabe had been on the same side, it would have given them a fighting chance.

Now though… The look on his face when Constance told him what she was had said it all. He wanted a normal woman, not someone like her.

Tears threatened again, but she pushed them back, refusing to allow any more grief. She’d been here for nearly a week. Time to pull on her big-girl panties and get her life together.

Just as soon as she could find the strength.

Iona continued to study her, while Constance pretended not to notice. When the silence between them became excruciating, her mom pulled back the lace curtains.

Aw, crap.
Constance bared her teeth at the freaking sun. No wonder vamps hated it. The stinking rays were drilling through her eyes like a laser beam.

“You should go outside and get some fresh air,” her mom said. “It’s a beautiful day.”

Bull. It was the start of one of many more exactly like it, with her alone and hurting. “I should leave before I eat up all my vacation time. I need to get back to work.” She didn’t move.

“Becca called again this morning. She and the others want to know how you are.”

“I’m fine.”

“You need to tell her, not me. Why won’t you talk to anyone?”

Because everyone was well-meaning, but their intrusive sympathy made her feel like a loser. Becca and the others were so determined to kill her with kindness, Constance knew what it would be like when she returned to work. Everyone would be cautious around her, afraid she might cry or fall apart like Heather was always doing.

Daemon and the Unholy Trio would behave themselves—for a while, not groping or screwing Heather or Zoe in the office. MJ would probably suggest a makeover. Becca would offer advice, one of her crappy spells, and finally a fix-up with Farron.

Ugh.

Constance didn’t want to face any of it yet or ever. “When they call again, just tell them I’m all right. I’ll be back soon. Tomorrow. Maybe the next day.” Surely when she’d used all her earned time off.

“Maybe you should tell them yourself. That’s probably them.”

The front bell ding-dong-dinged again. Constance covered her head with her arm, praying the caller was unknown and hopefully selling religion. Those guys really bugged the hell out of her mom, who lectured them while they tried to convert her. It’d be another Mexican standoff, which would occupy her and leave Constance in peace. “If it’s Becca or the others, tell them I’m in bed, please.”

“After they came all the way out here?”

Constance rolled her eyes. “We’re still in the French Quarter, Mama. I could walk from your house to the office.”

“So can they.”

Apparently, they’d done so, given the persistent ringing and now sudden knocking on the door. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

“Maybe not, but it will do you good.” She turned to go the door and then stopped and leveled her gaze on Constance. “Don’t you dare take off.”

How could she? Her legs were leaden. Her chest so tight with melancholy, she could barely pull in a full breath. She sighed. “I won’t.”

The cottage was bright blue trimmed with yellow, its wrought-iron fence lovingly tended, no different from the scant front garden. Flowers in every conceivable color crowded ferns, bushes and plants Gabe couldn’t identify.

Although the humidity wasn’t as bad today as it had been, he was already wilted, his shirt plastered to his damp back.
Come on, come on, come on.
He’d finally gotten the nerve to come here and didn’t want to leave without doing what he had to. Again, he knocked on the door.

On the other side, someone threw the lock. Once the door swung inward, Iona Queen stared up at him. She was in her mid-sixties—according to her driver’s license—and still quite beautiful. A lavender turban hid her hair, its calico print matching her gown. She wasn’t nearly as tall or curvy as Constance.

“Ms. Queen,” he said.

She stared at Gabe’s eyes, her own registering recognition. He didn’t have to wonder if Constance had talked about him. “Can I see her, please?” he asked.

Iona frowned. “What took you so long?” Despite the noise of a game show pouring from within the house, she continued to speak quietly. “It’s been nearly a week. Why’d you wait till now?”

Gabe wasn’t certain what to say, not having expected her questions. He’d kept worrying she’d throw him off her property and call the cops—his colleagues actually—to keep him away. “I…ah…”

“Still not sure what you want?”

Wow. She got straight to the point, didn’t she? Gabe decided to be as blunt. “Actually, I am. Can I see Constance? Please.”

She finally stepped aside. Before he could move too deeply into the cool, spotless house, she grabbed his sleeve. “You hurt her before. Don’t do it again.”

He spoke as quietly as she had. “No, ma’am. Believe me, I didn’t mean to. I was confused.”

“You’re mortal. You’ll have to get over it if you want my daughter.”

He did want Constance, always had. It had just taken him several days to stew about it, to mull over the pros and cons. The cons still outweighed everything else, but Gabe couldn’t stand another moment without her. He needed Constance in his life whatever way she came, because it made her who she was. “I’ll do my best.”

Iona released him and gestured toward the hall. “She’s in the first room on the right.”

Deeper into the house, creole spices wafted toward him, making his mouth water. The hardwood floors were so shiny they reflected the equally polished furniture, with vases everywhere—some holding flowers, others incense sticks. Pictures, yellowed with age, decorated the walls.

Gabe turned to the right and stopped in the doorway, joy and tenderness flooding him.

Constance was on the sofa, hair falling in soft waves around her gorgeous face, her white linen gown edged with eyelet, just like a little girl’s party dress. Gabe imagined what having a daughter with her would be like.

Although it should have scared the crap out of him, he smiled as she pretended to read a book. From the looks of it, one of those Reader’s Digest condensed ones.

“It’s upside down,” he said.

Her gaze shot up and held his, surprise, wonder, confusion, and disquiet registering quickly.

Not what Gabe had hoped for, but then it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. He smiled. “Hi.”

She pushed off the sofa and smoothed her hair and her gown.

“Don’t,” he said. “You’re perfect just as you are.”

Her eyes grew wet and cautious. “What are you doing here?”

“I came for you, just as you are.”

Constance covered her mouth with her hand as though to stifle a happy cry. She took a step toward him and then stopped, arm dropping to her side. “Just as I am? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know your last name isn’t Chastain.” He wagged a finger at her. “Nothing but the truth from now on. Deal?”

She backed away until her legs hit the sofa. “Depends on what you want to know.”

“Not what you think. Look, I’ve already had a chat with Becca and the others at the service. I know what they are—ah, who they are. Even saw the flames in Zoe’s and Stefin’s eyes. It was really something. I’ve never sweated so much in my life.”

Constance stared, then frowned. “Becca showed you everything? She invited you to—”

“I went there on my own and more or less caught everyone off guard.”

“Were you looking for me?”

Suddenly, Gabe was sorry he’d insisted on honesty between them. “No.”

She stopped edging closer. “Then why would you go there?”

“I thought maybe you had problems, like your blood sugar was too low or you were suffering from PTSD or—”

“Wait. You thought I had post-traumatic stress disorder?”

“It was all I could come up with to explain what you’d told me.”

“Meaning you didn’t believe me. And because you didn’t, you—”

“Baby, give me a break here. I’m mortal, okay? I don’t get hit with this stuff on a daily basis. I needed some time to digest it.”

Instead of softening, as he’d hoped, she stood even straighter. “Did you go to the service to demand my personnel records?”

“Absolutely not. I was going to ask everyone what they knew about you, but didn’t have a chance.” He lifted his shoulders. “Not after I saw what was going on.”

“You believed me then.”

“Yeah. I feel horrible for not having done so before, but like I said, I’m mortal.”
Please, cut me some slack.

Her expression remained cool. “You just found out today? You came here from there?”

Gabe wished it were so. “I went there the same afternoon you told me to leave your place and not come back.”

“And you waited until now to come by?” She made a face. “Becca’s known for nearly a week and even she didn’t bother to tell me?”

“You wouldn’t talk to her,” Iona called from the hall.

“Mama, please.”

She stood in the doorway. “If you two want privacy, go outside and leave me to my TV program. It’s a beautiful day. You should get some fresh air.”

Gabe offered his hand to Constance, hoping she’d take it.

She merely stared, sending his hopes plunging. Once he lowered his hand, Constance finally crossed the room. “We can go out to the backyard.”

It was as small as the front and bricked in, with wrought-iron patio furniture and more plants. “Did you grow up here?” he asked, hungry to know everything about her.

She kept frowning at the back window as if her mom was watching. The older woman must have finally moved away, because Constance turned to him. “Yeah, I did grow up here, just Mama and me. Forget what I told you about my parents. It was all lies. I never knew my dad. I’m not even sure who he is, though I’m thinking Morgan Freeman or Colin Powell. My mom came across both of them in the past. Interesting stories. By the way, she’s also a voodoo priestess, a legend in the community. In time, I hope to be too, because it’s my life’s calling, my special talent, what I do for a living and always will no matter what.”

She was trying to run him away or test him. Gabe was too tired and lonely to play games. “She seems like a fine woman. I hope someday she’ll like me.”

“She’s isn’t the same as you, Gabe. Neither am I. As you’ve said repeatedly today, you’re mortal.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “I don’t care.”

Constance searched his face, a flicker of the old desire softening her features until she shut down her feelings and grew distant again. She eased her hand from his. “Since when? I remember the last time we saw each other. Nearly a week ago. You never bothered to come back or—”

“You told me not to.”

“And you used it as an excuse? You didn’t call either. Did I say anything about you not calling me? You went to the service to find out about my so-called problem, and once you knew everything, you stayed away, but now you’re suddenly here?”

“It wasn’t sudden.” He took her hand again and held it between his. “I never stopped thinking of us. I won’t lie—all of this scares the shit out of me…it’s so foreign to everything I’ve ever known. But I’m willing to give it a try, see where our feelings take us, if you want to.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m falling for you, have been since the beginning, and I hope you’re doing the same with me.”

She studied his face. “You mean it?”

“Would I be here sweating bullets if I didn’t?”

Constance started to smile but killed it. “You do realize everyone at the service is my friend. I love them, and I won’t have anyone saying they’re creatures or monsters or—”

“I haven’t and I won’t. It’s not the kind of man I am. I know what it’s like not to belong. Hopefully, they’ll become my friends too and we can all make life easier on each other.”

“Easier?” She made another face. “The guys are demons and a former satyr who wouldn’t know how to act in polite company if you gave them detailed instructions. Then there’s a nervous fairy, a nympho genie, and a half-ass witch. Believe me, this won’t be easy.”

“Perfectly all right, especially when it comes to the women. They’re always trouble when you get right down to it. But the guys and I will be there to keep you ladies in line.”

Constance frowned in obvious offense and smacked his pec.

Laughing, Gabe pulled her close and hugged her as hard as he dared, giving in to emotion he’d held back too damn long. “God, I’ve missed you, baby.”

As he buried his face in her hair, she sagged against him. “I’m still pissed.” She held him as tightly as he held her. “You really hurt me.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was surprised, confused, totally stupid. I swear, it won’t happen again.”

She snuggled closer. “Tell me how much you missed me. Could you sleep?”

“Fuck no. I’m dead on my feet right now.”

“How about eating, were you able to?”

“I haven’t swallowed anything except coffee, vitamins, fruit drinks, milk, and lots of beer.”